


Big and Stupid

by monsterleadmehome



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Morosexual Hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterleadmehome/pseuds/monsterleadmehome
Summary: Draco figures out that Hermione is a morosexual and plays dumb to get her attention.





	Big and Stupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [senlinyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/senlinyu/gifts).

> Happy Birthday, Hermione Granger! 
> 
> This fic came about after a conversation about Hermione's romantic partners and thus is dedicated to my ladies of Save a Thestral, Ride a Dragon. The title comes from [this song](https://open.spotify.com/track/1xajTM7DTI8cWIbao7jXhI?si=fP5w2mxOS1CEmvT9ZUFjDw), which I remember from my childhood for some inexplicable reason.

He notices it first at Hogwarts. How can he not? The way the Weasel is always trailing after her, the slight pink in her cheeks when he says something truly inane. 

Even as early as second year, he knows she fancies Professor Lockhart—if only she could see through his facade like Draco can. Poor little Mudblood, so booksmart but not very street smart. 

He hates her for it at first. He hates her for a long time for being better than him at nearly everything, for winning the friendship of the famous Harry Potter, for being regularly commended by their professors. And even all that might be bearable, if not for her ridiculous infatuation with Weasley, the blood traitor who can’t even afford new dress robes. 

He thinks about how much he hates her on a regular basis. Until one day he realises it isn’t hate anymore. 

He sees her on the arm of another idiot, Viktor Krum, and she looks almost like a completely different person. Her hair is halfway decent, and that dress—the way it clings to the breasts he only just noticed she has. Except her eyes are the same deep brown, somehow able to pierce him to his core. He can see the same fiery spirit beneath and suddenly his hate dissolves into something else completely.

He leaves an angry Pansy in the common room and has a good wank to images of Hermione Granger at the Yule Ball, dancing with her big oaf of a date, drawing the eyes of the ginger oaf who is too stupid to scoop her up and take her off the market.

* * *

After the dust settles from the war and Draco is free—although somewhat of a social pariah until he can make enough amends to convince everyone he never wanted to be a Death Eater—he sees her with Weasley. Granger has finally captured her ginger idiot, and she looks reasonably pleased.  _ Good for her, I guess _ . 

It lasts all of six months.

By this point, Draco is now working at the Ministry and has the good fortune to run into Hermione several times a week. She’s civil at first, and the more he is civil back, never once uttering the word he hasn’t said in years, she actually warms to him. She’s even  _ nice _ .

Which is more than he can handle, really. It’s more than he deserves, and of course—because among all the other shitty things he is, he’s also apparently a masochist—he falls for her. Not just intrigued or curious, like he’s been for years, but completely besotted. He thinks about what their children might look like, all grey eyes and unruly curls.

Then the self loathing kicks back in and before he can convince himself he deserves to breathe the same air as her, let alone ask her out, she starts dating Cormac McLaggen. At least he’s a step in the right direction—rich, blonde, could be considered by some to have a certain charm.

Then it hits him one day as he listens to Granger explain the basics of her job to him for the fifth time: Hermione only likes morons. Lockhart, Krum, Weasley, and now McLaggen. Of course she wouldn’t give Draco a second look—he’s her intellectual equal. Not to mention he doesn’t need the particular brand of mothering she likes to bring to her relationships.

The more he watches Hermione interact with McLaggen, the more he becomes convinced that she needs to break out of this cycle of dating these stupid jock types. They can only hold her interest for so long and once she’s done nagging them into submission, she gets bored.

He would never bore her, he’s sure of that.

But how can he get her attention?

* * *

“Granger, could you come and help me with this?” He pops his head around the corner as she walks down the Ministry halls.

“Sure, Malfoy. What do you need?” Her disposition is sunny today, and if he’s as fluent in her moods now as he thinks, it means she got laid last night. He shudders.  _ Stick to the plan _ .

“Well—silly me, I think I’ve locked myself out of my office.” He shows her the normal wandwork that he usually uses to open it. Nothing.

“Oh that is strange. Let me see?” She holds his hand out for his wand, and he gladly gives it to her, wondering if she knows what a big deal it is that he’s trusting her with it. She inspects it for a moment before handing it back and moving to his door. Eventually, she smiles and points her own wand at the door. “ _ Finite _ .”

The door unlocks and swings inward.

“Someone must’ve been playing a joke on you, Draco.” Gooseflesh breaks out down his arms at her use of his first name.

“What would I without you, Granger?” He bats his eyes at her for emphasis.

She laughs as she looks him up and down. “I’m sure you’d manage.”

* * *

She drops McLaggen even faster than Weasley. 

It’s a Tuesday, and inexplicably Granger has agreed to eat lunch with him. They sit in the Ministry cafeteria and she tells him about how she broke it off over the weekend.

“Good. You deserve better than that wanker.”  _ Certainly someone smarter _ .

“I suppose.” She sighs as she takes a bite of her salad.

“You deserve someone who isn't going to take advantage of you. You want a partner, not a child.”

Hermione’s eyes widen, like she hadn’t considered this before. “And where would I find that?” 

He thinks he’s imagining the hope in her voice.  _ Right in front of you, witch _ . He clears his throat. “Maybe you should stop looking. I hear these things happen when you least expect them.”

* * *

“You can’t possibly be serious.” Hermione is giving him one of her infamous looks. If only she knew how it turned him on, instead of intimidating him the way she clearly means it.

“I am. Can you help me or not, Granger?”

“You really want me to explain your own contract to you?”

“It was a long time ago that I drafted it and there’s so much legalese. I just want to make sure it’s correct.”

She rolls her eyes and huffs, but says, “Fine.”

She spends the next 45 minutes in his office breaking down the lengthy contract he’d written into layman's terms. He purposely put several mistakes in it, and she catches every single one.

“Honestly, Malfoy. Were you drunk when you wrote this?”

He smirks. “It’s possible.”

She playfully bats his arm. “You’re terrible.” 

His heart flutters. “I know.”

* * *

Today he has pulled out all the stops. He already brought her tea in the morning, purposely spilling some on his tie so she’d have to vanish it for him. And right now—well, right now Draco is thinking he has officially lost his mind because it’s raining in his office. He sends Hermione a soggy interdepartmental memo to come to his rescue immediately.

A dry interdepartmental memo flies into his office, spelled to not get wet. It simply reads, “Have you tried  _ Finite _ ?”

He hasn’t, but he knows it won’t work because he specifically created this curse to not end with a simple  _ Finite _ . The counter-curse is a bit more involved, but he’s confident that she can crack it. He writes back.

Moments later, Hermione is standing in his doorway, laughing. “You didn’t think to come out of your office so you could stay dry?”

“Oh. I guess not.” Really, he had taken off his outer robes in the hopes that she would see him with his wet shirt clinging to him. He has been keeping fit and notes that it’s been very worth it as Granger’s eyes rake over him.

She places her hands on her hips and tries several spells to reverse the curse. None of them work. “What in the name of Morgana?” Now involved, she wanders into the office, letting the rain soak her through.

Draco watches as her fawn colored dress sticks to her body and she looks almost nude. He couldn’t have planned this for a better day. She tries several more spells aimed at the rainclouds sticking to the ceiling of his office. He inches closer and closer to her, closing the door on his way.

Finally, she reverses the spell and turns to him, a wide grin on her face. “I did it!”

“Yes you did, Granger. Brightest witch of your age.” 

She steps back as he keeps moving towards her. “I know what you’re doing, Malfoy.”

He’s close enough now that he could touch her. His voice grows husky. “What am I doing?”

Hermione gulps. “Acting dumb and helpless so I’ll come to your rescue.”

He’s got her backed up into the wall now, arms coming up on either side to cage her in. “And it’s working, isn’t it?”

She lets out a shaky breath. “It is.” Her hand comes up to touch his chest, fingers gripping his soaked shirt.

“Good,” he says right before he covers her mouth with his.

The kiss is somehow everything Draco’s been dreaming about and nothing like he expected. She is warm and pliant beneath him, despite being drenched from the rain. Her mouth opens eagerly and she is the first to deepen the kiss, causing him to groan and press his body against hers so she can  _ feel  _ how she affects him.

When he pulls back at last, he can see the lust in her dark eyes. “Draco, why didn’t you just say something? Why go through all this trouble?”

He frowns. “I didn’t think you’d notice otherwise.” He starts to kiss her neck. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, Granger. You have a type.”

He watches as her face changes from confusion to realisation. “Oh my god. They’re all idiots.”

Draco smiles. “They are.”

“And you’re not.”

“No I’m not.” He keeps kissing her neck, moving up to nibble her ear. And suddenly she’s laughing. “Something funny, Hermione?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with me?”

He turns serious. “Absolutely nothing. You’re perfect. I think you just like to be needed.”

“And do  _ you  _ need me?” She quirks an eyebrow.

“Desperately.”

Her breath catches as he bucks into her so she can feel his erection again. “Fuck me, Draco.”

“Gladly.” He slides her wet dress up her hips and lifts her off the floor, her legs wrapping around him.

Her skin is dewy and he’s pretty sure he’ll be chafed later from the damp clothing, but he can’t bring himself to care as he eases into her wet heat. Every little gasp and moan she makes is like music to his ears and he can’t believe this is finally happening after pining for her for so long. She clutches his back like she’s holding on for dear life as he fucks her into the wall.

His breathing becomes labored as he ramps up, moving as quickly as he can to chase that release. She feels divine, and his mind endlessly chants  _ Mine, mine, mine _ . He moves his hand to her apex, coaxing her to a climax.

“Draco!” she cries as she comes, and he thinks he could die a happy man.

* * *

He’s never been more satisfied with himself than when he wakes up with Hermione Granger in his arms. She lets out a contented sigh against his chest and his spirit soars. 

“Happy Birthday, Hermione.”

She blinks a few times before smiling. “You remembered. None of my other boyfriends ever have.”

“Well, you’re forgetting an important distinction.”

“Right. You’re _so_ much smarter than they were.”

“Indeed.” He kisses her deep and languidly. They have all morning. 

It’s been nearly a year since they’ve been together and as he predicted, he hasn’t bored her yet. In fact, the little ring in his desk drawer says he’ll continue to not bore her for years to come. 


End file.
